


Ballet Boy

by sopesinmysalad (infidelrequiem)



Series: Markbum Drabbles [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bambam is a little shit, Crack, Fluff, M/M, Mark Tuan is a Panicked Gay, ballet dancer!Im Jaebum, he is concerned they will smash on the piano, jaebum is a little shit, jinyoung is tired of everyone, pianist!mark tuan, totally not self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24571102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infidelrequiem/pseuds/sopesinmysalad
Summary: Mark realises that the best melody he will ever play is the story that is about to pan out from this point onward...if only he STOPS PANICKING, OH MY GOSH-
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Mark Tuan
Series: Markbum Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766584
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Ballet Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Little Women for the second time after binge angsting out to the Given osts and they don't factor any au or plot element in this drabble but those feelings that poured out at 3am- here they are :))))
> 
> (Also, part 1 was the same , it got deleted hence it says part 2 sjsjs idk ao3 posting enough yet to be able to change it or whether it can be changed even -  
> So , for now, pls ignore XD)

Melodies. The highs and lows of human conversation, the humming of engines , the whirring of a ceiling fan, the clinking of cutlery being washed, the fall of footsteps scurrying across to wait tables, the flap of fabric as it cuts through air with the turns of the dancer, and all that was sewn and woven under his fingertips across the ivory keys. A song. A story. Life. A melody.

Mark had known that such a concept existed, now something which he believes in as a fact, that pieces of music could tell tales and make people feel emotions in a deeper sense. That you could _see_ those songs, and _live_ those stories, merely by sound. Unspoken words, the silence of speech amidst liberty of piano keys.. of violin strings, of cello shrills, of flutes that shimmer, and-

"-there?"

Mark lifts his head slowly towards the direction of the voice and from where he feels a shadow cast over half his face. His eyes flit towards the boy leaning against the edge of the old piano, only to find them fixed on him with an overwhelming intensity but seemingly tinged with slight amusement.

"What?" Mark lets out.

"You stopped playing," the boy before him replies.

"Oh," is all Mark adds, dumbly, as he takes in of the situation for the first time since he heard the boy talk. He has his hands folded in his lap, toes curled inside of his dress shoes resting on their tips, knees drawn in and pressed together, a slight stiffness to his back. He immediately loosens, sighs , and gets up to stretch a bit.

"Sorry, must've got lost in thought." Mark doesn't have much space to stand fully erected between the bench he was sitting on and the piano but the bench is too close to the stray box of leftover supplies for the stage set design towards the left(he'd trip), and there is no way in hell that he is going to scoot over to get out from the right when _he_ would be in the way (and most likely _wouldn't_ move of his own accord). So Mark does the only sane thing possible in the situation, he tries to step backwards over the seat behind him, which really shouldn't have been an issue considering his long legs but those cursed pointy dress shoes!

" You are not playing the part of the Princess , _princess ."_ Mark closes his eyes and internally sighs. This is not the position in which he thought he'd find himself in when he'd agreed to play the accompaniment for the dance and drama clubs' ambitious crossover maiden musical -

Awkwardly half bent over his back, one leg straightened out towards the piano's pedal and the other folded and squashed under the weight of the star dancer of their college, his hands grasping onto the boy's loose frilly white shirt at his sides, feeling the tense muscle underneath, his forehead slightly throbbing from having banged said boy's chin, which seems to be turning into a slight shade of red because _he can see such detail_ as he is _mere millimetres away from his face._ The boy he has been crushing over since the start of term when he saw him tying his loose hair up before a warm up for rehearsals in his tank top and slacks and ballet flats, _bent over him, holding him, and panting over his face_ due to the leftover tiredness from the many pirouettes that he had been doing in a stretch before Mark _very rudely_ stopped playing the symphony to this celestial being before him whose deep dark eyes shone in the golden glints of the overhead stage lights as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face, his eyes behind stray strands of hair that hung, mocking Mark to tuck them behind his pretty ear with those earrings, _oh my god,_ he certainly _did not_ foresee this. He did not foresee that a day would arrive when Im Jaebeom, the _god_ who he wished would _devour him_ , would call him-

"-doing it again, princess. Stop thinking so much, just feel-"

"If you are both done with the foreplay, can we please get on with the song so we can move on to the next Act?"

In that moment Mark realised three things:

  1. just how much he hated Jinyoung, the fucking cock-block
  2. how long it had been since he had been cocked
  3. he was _not_ in a practice room , _alone_ , with Jaebeom



He was in the college auditorium, with the whole of both the drama and dance clubs sitting in the audience, on stage, with now, somehow, only a solitary spotlight on both him and Jaebeom (he is going to kill Bambam after this) and it is eerily quiet and they still haven't moved or said anything and he is still staring back into Jaebeom's eyes... and he panics.

He unclenches his right hand from Jaebeom's side, lifts it as the dancer adjusts his grip on Mark's lithe body, and _tucks those strands behind Jaebeom's ear._ He hears snickers, hoots, and groans (singular, _groan_ \- read: Jinyoung) and then Mark's heart crashes because he is suddenly upright and is looking at crescent moon eyes with those endearing fucking _dots_ and he hears the best melody , with his own two ears, in close proximity. The Ballet Boy is happy, he is smiling, he is laughing, and Mark is so endeared he thinks he is going to cry.

Mark had known that stories in music existed but he hadn't truly felt it, under his fingertips, until then.

"Be mine," he lets out.

Jaebeom's breath hitches for a mere second, eyes stilling in surprise, before he settles into his boyish grin , "As you wish, my highness."

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not repost !  
> Feedback is appreciated !  
> ~ <3


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